


One

by dashing-away (lutamira)



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Season 5 Christmas Special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutamira/pseuds/dashing-away
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the proposal, Elsie has a little trouble catching up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One

Silence falls after they’ve both drained their cups. The things now open between them loom and grow, begin to take up awkward space in the room. Her brain feels buzzy, thoughts swooping here and there, refusing to land. She’s suddenly, pathetically convinced that he’s taken this upon himself after hearing about Becky, afraid it isn’t love, but rescue.

“How long have you been thinking of this?” she manages to ask, knowing he’ll deny it if she asks him straight out.

It takes him a while to answer her question, so long she’s almost forgotten what she asked, or maybe the pause is short and it’s just her winging thoughts that fly past, slippery and disorganized. 

He tells her it has been coming on slowly, but that he thinks it really all started way back on that day at the beach, or maybe even before, when she gave him that picture of Alice, nevertheless, most certainly, he asked her to go in on property with him with this very end in mind. He says that last bit with a smile, eyes bright under bashful lashes.

She can’t help but smile back at him, relieved, pleased and more than a bit surprised that she’s managed to be so thick for so long. All those afternoons tramping around the countryside, evenings spent pouring over adverts and flyers. He was courting her! Then again, her expectations hadn’t been so out of line with the man she thought she’d known. Had they?

“I spoke with his Lordship.” And she’s clearly gotten lost in thought again because she’s startled at the sound of his voice, and the words don’t quite add up, until they do. 

She’s stunned, feels a brief flash of anger before dull resignation. Of course he spoke to the family before he spoke to her. She steps back, cold. “You have?”

He’s quick to backtrack, “Oh no, nothing about you and I. I simply asked him to consider whether he would be willing to employ a married butler.”

She stares at him. She shouldn’t have assumed. Of course he wouldn’t have presumed. She waits to hear more. He has paused though, looking at her anxiously, wary from her initial reaction. The look on his face makes her want to crowd up against him, to nuzzle deep into the wool of his coat, to laugh and dance and sing and scream out loud. Instead she says “And…?”

“He was perfectly comfortable with the idea. In fact, he seemed quite pleased at the thought. I’ve had a time putting him off.”

She nods. She should say something, she knows it, but she’s thinking of weddings and cottages and beds and announcements and he shifts, shuffles his feet, blurts out, “But you’re not sorry I asked?”

She isn’t. “Never,” she swears, and because he has given her so much tonight, she forces herself to continue, “in fact, I have loved you for quite some time.”


End file.
